Wonder Woman

Lots of people know I love Wonder Woman. I have friends who love Wonder Woman, and have loved her for a long time. Some of these friends probably watched the cartoon about her, or maybe even read her comic books as a little girl.

My love for Wonder Woman is not long-standing. I don’t remember watching the Wonder Woman cartoon when I was a little girl. I don’t remember having a Wonder Woman doll…although, my big brother did. He had an entire set of super heroes, and when he got them out, she was the only one I was allowed to play with. When he was done and put them away, I had to give her back. I didn’t read any stories about her, and I definitely didn’t pretend to be her.

I was a shy little girl, and I loved to read. I loved to play with my brother, and the few close friends I had. I was afraid of strangers, and the dark, and storms…and so many other things. My brother called me a wimp, and it was true. I wasn’t daring or adventurous. I didn’t play in the dirt. I probably didn’t even like to play in a sandbox. I didn’t want to go to the deep end of the pool, and to this day, I’m not sure if I ever used the diving board. I didn’t like to sing in front of people, and I really didn’t want to have to make new friends.

When I married Christopher, I was in college. He was in the Marine Corps Reserves, so he had to do a weekend drill every month, and left for two weeks every summer for training. During those times, I would leave our apartment and stay with my parents. (In my defense, we lived in a horrible part of town. There was a drug bust and shooting about 2 blocks away from our apartment at one point.)

Then I got pregnant and Christopher was deployed. I moved to an apartment closer to my parents, but most of the time, I just ended up staying with them. I hated being alone. I dreaded it, and didn’t sleep. I would sleep with the tv on, because in my mind, it made it seem like someone might be awake, and if people on the outside thought someone on the inside was awake, they were less likely to try to come in. It doesn’t make sense, but that was the way I thought.

And then Christopher was killed.

And I had choices to make.

It’s amazing to me how vastly life can change in the space of a breath. My entire world changed when Christopher breathed his final breath, and I had to figure out how to be his wife without him by my side. I had to learn to be a widow. I was 23 years old.

Three days after Christopher was killed, I was in church. People told me I didn’t need to go, and that everyone would understand if I didn’t go, but I knew that’s where I needed to be. My soul needed to be there, even if my body fought it. I knew I’d probably just stand there crying, but I knew that I needed to be surrounded by love on that day. I knew that I needed to draw on the strength of other people, and that would help me gain my own strength to keep walking through those days.

At this point of our lives, my parents and I lived in Ohio, but my brother and sister in-law lived in Florida. They flew up to Ohio to be with us during this time. He gave me a box of cards at one point, and I was a little confused, but that wasn’t surprising because he often gave me things that confused me.

It was a box of Wonder Woman greeting cards. They weren’t Snoopy, or Care Bears, or anything else that reflected my likes and interests at that time in my life. They were Wonder Woman. And he had written inside one of the greeting cards.

Here’s what he wrote:

Bethany,

When we were younger, I used to tease you about being a wimp or a scaredy-cat. Let’s face it-you were pretty much scared of everything.

But in the last few months, I’ve seen a strength in you that I didn’t know existed.

You’ve been through a lot. You’ve had to deal with things most people couldn’t handle.

And you’ve done it all with grace and strength.

Bethany, you’re an amazing young woman.

I don’t believe there’s anything you can’t do.

-Caleb

I can’t explain, really, how those words made me feel in that moment. I knew my big brother loved me. I even knew he liked me. But to know that he was proud of me, and that he thought I was strong was an even bigger deal than he probably realizes.

For me, it was one of those moments when I needed someone to speak truth into my life. I’m thrilled that the words came from my brother. I needed to be told, “You can do this. You’re already doing this. And you don’t just have to struggle through. You can thrive and grow in this moment, because God has the strength you need to get through this.” That’s probably not what most people see when they read my brother’s words, but that’s what I see. God saw me in those moments of darkness, and He didn’t let me get swallowed up by it. He walked through it with me, and gave me all the strength and grace I needed in order to live through it. I didn’t have to wander through the darkness aimlessly, because He was my light. I didn’t have to fear the future, because He held my tomorrows. And I knew that if I continued to lean on my God, He would see me through that season of intense grieving.

My brother’s words were a reminder to me that God was my foundation, and that He had already given me the strength I needed to do some pretty hard things. At that moment, I had been living without my husband for about 7 months. We had only been married a little over a year. I had continued going to college while I was pregnant and my husband was deployed. I had gone through the delivery of my first baby without my husband by my side. I had learned how to be a single mom, even though I wasn’t really a single mom. I had learned how to survive while missing a piece of me, because he was defending my country’s freedom in a faraway land. I had learned to sleep through the night, even when I was afraid. I had learned how to be a Marine’s wife, and now I’d have to learn how to be a Marine’s widow.

When my brother gave me that box of cards, and I read his words, I felt strong enough to face what was coming. At that point, I still had to go through calling hours and a funeral, and I still had to bury my husband, the love of my life. But my brother’s words opened my eyes to see that I was capable of greater things than I’d ever realized. I could be strong, courageous, and brave, like Wonder Woman. Someone told me shortly after Christopher’s death that, when she saw the pictures of me at his funeral, she told her husband, “She’s the epitome of a Marine wife. She’s strong, and capable, and dignified.” I don’t know if I would have said those things of myself at that time, but looking back, I can see it. I was changed by Christopher’s death, absolutely. But I didn’t let his death change who I inherently was. I chose to be strong in those moments, and chose to let God hold me together instead of allowing myself to completely fall apart.

Years later, I have moments when I struggle with believing that I can do this. I struggle with feeling like I can’t be the mom my kids need me to be, or that I can’t be a good wife. I struggle with feeling like this life God has called me to live, this story He has given me, is too much or too hard. I often think He gave it to the wrong person. I don’t always feel strong enough to be a Marine’s widow, who is remarried to her first husband’s best friend and squad leader, who ended up becoming a Sheriff’s Deputy. Any one of those things on their own is hard enough to handle, but to have all of them in one package can seem overwhelming. Honestly, there are days when I struggle with feeling like my faith won’t see me through.

But then I see Wonder Woman. And I remember that my God makes all things possible, and that if He got me through that, He can surely see me through anything else that comes my way. I can choose to be strong, courageous, and brave, and I can do it all with dignity and grace.

Minecraft

Did you know there are fireworks in Minecraft?

As a homeschooling family, we miss out on lots of things. We spent years not knowing what the fox says. (We still don’t actually know, but we’ve heard the song.)

One of those things used to be Minecraft. Then we went to a friend’s house, and their son was playing it. My boys were hooked.

Now, Minecraft may be a daily occurrence in our house. Emerson has been known to come into our room at 6:30 am, just to ask if he can please play Minecraft. At least he says please.

I don’t really understand Minecraft. There are times when I sit and watch my kids play, and I have no idea how they’ve figured out what buttons to push in order to do things. I don’t have any idea how they know what they’re even looking at half the time. But man, are they enthralled.

I spent half an hour one day, watching my boys try to find each other in the game. I kept giggling to myself, because they were making beacons, and using maps, and trading remotes to try to find the other person on the screen. They eventually gave up and logged out, then logged back on at the same time so that they would be together.

I love that my boys, who don’t always get along, can play this game for hours. Not that I let them play for hours on end, but if I’d let them, they would. It has brought them together.

My boys are vastly different. Not even kidding you. A friend of mine had taught one of the boys in a Bible club at our church, so she knew his personality well. Then she started teaching the Sunday school class that the other boy was in. I remember the first time I picked him up, she looked at me and her eyes got wide as she said, “So, your boys…” And I said, “Yes?” She said, “They’re like…” And she held her hands up so that they were spread apart. To which I replied, “Opposite ends of the boy spectrum, huh?” She just said, “Yeah!”

Atticus is soon to be 9. For the beginning of his life, it was just him and Ella. He adored his big sister and wanted to be like her and do everything she did. He would dress up in her clothes, and play with her dolls, and he loved fairies as much as she did. Some people showed concern over this, but we embraced him. He was only 3, after all. As he’s grown, he’s shown that he’s interested in things that are not ‘typical.’ He loves dragons and fantasy, and yes, that means he is still in love with the idea of fairies. He loves Pokemon. He is creative and draws constantly. He loves dinosaurs. He does not like guns, or weapons, or playing war.

Emerson just turned 7, and likes everything that Atticus does not. He loves guns and weapons, and he loves to be the ‘good guy.’ He is definitely his father’s son, which we love, but it has caused some friction between these boys. Emerson also likes Pokemon, and I guess dragons and dinosaurs, but he’d rather play with guns and swords and light sabers. I remember walking to the bus stop years ago, when he was maybe 4. He took a plastic hanger and stuck it down the back of his shirt before we left, and I asked him what on earth he needed a hanger for. He said, “It’s my bow, Mom. I need it in case we see bad guys.” His imagination for protecting me and his baby sister from bad guys was precious. But it was completely different from how Atticus would walk to the bus stop. (Typically, Atticus would dance to the bus stop, or pretend to be a dragon flying to the bus stop.)

Minecraft has invaded our home. But I’m choosing to embrace it for the good that I see it bringing. I see it bringing my boys together. They can work together to accomplish things. Jeff plays, too, and they love getting to play a video game with their dad. It has brought together all the males in our house, and that is pretty cool. Of course, Ella likes to play it as well, and Mathilda is certain that even 4 year olds should be allowed to play, but that’s beside the point.

Grace and Glory

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told, “You should start a blog!” I don’t often feel like I have all that much worth sharing with a large group of people, but I know that writing is good for my soul, and something I write may need to be shared with others, so I guess that’s what we’re doing here.

Today, I finished a book that has taken me years to read. Literally, y e a r s. Christopher told me about this book when we were dating, and told me that I reminded him of the main character. Her name is Much Afraid…

Yeah, I wasn’t thrilled.

Even though it was true.

The book is called Hinds’ Feet on High Places, by Hannah Hurnard. It is an allegory about a character named Much-Afraid and her journey to follow the Shepherd to the High Places.

Side note: I had been thinking about naming this blog, and was hitting a brick wall. I didn’t have any trouble naming my four kids, and I already have a title picked out for the book I’ve started writing, but naming a blog seemed like an insurmountable task. Crazy, I know. As I was thinking about this, the phrase Grace and Glory came to mind. It’s from a poem I wrote a long time ago. The concept is that I live my life by the grace of God, and that through everything, I exist to bring Him glory. I have survived many things in my life, but I couldn’t have survived them, or rather, thrived in spite of them without God’s grace. Because I recognize this, I want to make sure God receives the glory, or credit, for the amazing things that have happened in my life.

Back to this morning: I was nearing the end of the book, where Much-Afraid finally gets to where she’s going (it’s not a spoiler, I promise), and this is what I read…

“Never am I to call you Much-Afraid again.” At that He laughed again and said, “I will write upon her a new name, the name of her God. The Lord God is a sun and shield:  the Lord will give grace and glory:  no good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly” (Psalm 84:11). “This is your new name,” He declared. “From henceforth you are Grace and Glory.”

And then I cried. And I made Jeff read it. To be honest, I felt a little overwhelmed. For the longest time, I was so afraid of everything. It was like Fear was a constant companion, and I couldn’t really get rid of him. He tormented me and left me feeling small and frightened and fragile.

But that’s not how God saw me. Ever. He always saw me as He knew I could be. And He knew I could be so much more.

It’s mind-boggling to me that Christopher only knew the me who existed before his death. I know, that’s kind of a strange statement to make. He only knew the girl who was so terribly shy, she didn’t even want to call and order a pizza. I used to spend the weekend at my parents’ house when he had to go to drill (with the Marine Corps Reserves). I didn’t ever want to live alone. You can imagine the shock to my system that came when he was deployed, and then when he was killed. I hated being alone, because it brought out the greatest fears in me. I have no idea what Christopher meant when he compared me to Much-Afraid, and while I’m curious, I’ll never get to have that conversation.

I still have my moments. Truly I do. I have moments of anxiety and panic, and of feeling overwhelmed. But I feel much more capable of dealing with those moments now. I have found out just how strong my foundation is, and it is rock solid. With that knowledge, and the knowledge of what God has already walked me through, I know I don’t have to allow those moments to turn into anything bigger.

Grace and Glory may not be my blog name, but I am no longer Much Afraid.